


Cas-E

by missbloody



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Really rot-your-teeth fluff, Wall-E references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbloody/pseuds/missbloody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel watches an animated film about a heart-warming robot and wants to know what's so good about hand-holding.</p><p>My first story on AO3. Be kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cas-E

**Author's Note:**

> If ever there was a fandom that moved me to tears, it would be this one. Damn them, the bastards.  
> At the beginning, this story was meant to be light and fluffy and perhaps it still reads that way, but I have to say I shed a few tears writing this, because the deeper I got into it the more I saw similarities in Dean and Cas to Eve and Wall-E, respectively. It also didn’t help that I had Madilyn Bailey’s cover of Sia’s Titanium on repeat (please go find it on Youtube if you’ve never listened to it!)  
> I apologise in advance if people have never seen the movie Wall-E, because it will probably contain spoilers.

 

***

 

“I don’t understand.”

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his tired face before turning to the Angel that continued to stare intently at the television in confusion. He and Sam were researching the lore on the resident spook of a redneck town in Alabama and had – much like a stressed mother – parked Castiel in front of the TV to keep him amused.

“What, Cas?”

Despite his usual attentiveness to the hunter, Castiel’s gaze remained locked on the animated movie in front of him. “Why is this ‘Wall-E’ the only robot left on the derelict Earth?”

Dean had no idea about what he was talking about. “I don’t know Cas.”

“He seems very lonely. A cockroach is clearly an inadequate companion.” Castiel criticized.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Just watch the movie.”

“Ok, Dean.”

Sometime later, Sam announced his need for caffeine and went on a coffee run (and he most assuredly would not forget Dean’s pie). Castiel was utterly enraptured with his movie and Dean huffed a laugh at his fascination. He stood up and raised his arms above his head, stretching his body out as far as he could, sighing in pleasure at the pull of his muscles and the popping of his joints. Relaxing, he absently scratched his stomach and glanced around, only to find Castiel’s wide blue eyes focused on him.

“Movie getting boring?” Dean asked.

“No, it is quite enjoyable.” Castiel looked away, almost nervously and shifted as he returned his attention back to the screen.

Dean blinked, bemused by the angel’s unusual behaviour that reminded him a little too much of when Cas was embarrassed about being a virgin. He contemplated pushing the issue, but ultimately decided that Cas was entitled to secrets and was definitely not a stranger to being weird. It was practically the basis for his whole personality. 

“So far, no leads on this case. We’ll probably have to hit the streets and talk to the locals tomorrow.” Dean walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer, twisting the lid off as he turned back to look at Castiel who hadn’t made any indication that he was listening.

Dean frowned, “Which, clearly, you seem ecstatic about.” He added sarcastically.

Castiel cut his eyes sideways to send Dean a perplexed look.

“Dude, what’s up with you tonight? You’re not usually so distracted.” _At least, not when_ I’m _talking to you._ Dean couldn’t help adding in his head, which he knew was perfectly justifiable, despite the worrying implications. The filter between his brain and his mouth had become a lot stricter since he began noticing the startling amount of chick-flick, gooey, romantic crap he constantly wanted to spew when Cas was near him.

“I apologise, Dean.” The depth of shame in Castiel’s tone made Dean feel a little guilty. “I seem to find the story of emotionally aware machinery more interesting than our current conversation.” Cas had an amazing way of conveying so many emotions in one sentence. Dean could hear sadness, defeat, frustration, disappointment, vulnerability, mortification and fragility so poignant all Dean wanted to do was comb his fingers through Cas’ hair, hold him close and say: _“Cas never stop watching Wall-E if it makes you happy_ ” and – _Christ—_ if that didn’t make Dean want to go sit in the corner and bang his head against the wall repeatedly.

“It’s ok, Cas. Sammy and I probably won’t need you to come along tomorrow anyway, so you can stay here and watch the movie again if you want.” Cas’ face did that thing where he looked at Dean as if he’s an oasis in the middle of a desert— all soft, gratitude-filled eyes, mouth parted slightly as if he’s going to whisper a soft _“hallelujah”_ and his whole body seeming to radiate reverence which made Dean highly uncomfortable.

If Dean had never met Jimmy, he might have just brushed it off, but Jimmy could never communicate so much on a level so far beyond human. Just because it was encased in a fleshy meatsuit, didn’t mean Dean couldn’t see Cas’ grace; his true form.

“I appreciate that, Dean.”

“Don’t mention it.” _I want to kiss you so badly._

 

***     

 

It had been three hours, twenty-seven minutes and eight seconds since Dean and Sam had left the motel room to interview the local civilians and Castiel had watched Wall-E twice already (not including the two times he watched it last night until the brother’s had loudly expressed their desire that he turn it off so they could continue sleeping) and Castiel had come to an intriguing discovery. He _really_ wanted to know why the surprisingly endearing robot was so obsessed with holding hands with the other robot, Eve.

In fact, at the crux of the film, just when Castiel was so sure Wall-E had reverted back to his original impersonal settings, Eve brought him back by taking his hand and, literally, sparking life back into him. Castiel had been breathless with relief when Wall-E had responded to Eve’s affection.

He looked down at his hands folded in his lap, losing himself in the thought that perhaps _his_ hands would be capable of such resurrection. Or perhaps _another_ set of hands would be _his_ salvation. To initiate bodily contact with someone for the sake of emotional connection seemed a little alien to Castiel and the only person he tolerated physical proximity with was Dean.

Castiel’s eyes snapped up in surprise.

Logically he understood his familiarity with the Hunter. He had laid siege to Hell with the single-minded focus of finding the Righteous Man and when he had finally found him, waist deep in carnage and violence, he was struck mute by the brilliance of this one human’s soul. He had cradled Dean close, trying- futilely- to protect him from further corruption and in silent apology for not finding him sooner. The warmth of Dean’s soul had been just as healing to Castiel as his own grace was to the human and they had clung to each other in pain, relief and fear.

It was foolish to believe that any other person, human or otherwise, could ever hold Castiel’s hand with the same importance that Dean could. Did that mean Castiel was fated to never have that connection, then, when Dean was so adamant about his heterosexuality? The thought made his chest clench uncomfortably. Handholding was not exclusively sexual or romantic in nature, however, and perhaps friendship would be enough for Castiel to feel whatever emotions holding Eve’s hand had invoked in Wall-E.

Secure in his decision, Castiel turned Wall-E off and remained sitting on the couch in the silence of the motel room for one hour, forty-two minutes and twelve seconds when Dean and Sam finally pushed their way through the door, talking boisterously and gesticulating with their hands wildly. Arguing again, Castiel noted to himself.

Dean responded to whatever Sam had said previously with a dismissive, “Whatever, Sammy,” and grinned teasingly before throwing himself on his bed and looking over to Castiel.

“Finished with your movie?”

Castiel looked at the blank TV screen, “Obviously.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “And how long have you been sitting there by yourself, waiting for us to get back?”

From experience, Castiel knew that stating the precise time generally led to teasing from Dean and perturbed sympathy from Sam so he replied, “Not long.”

From the look he got in return from the eldest Winchester, he knew Dean saw right through his lie. Not that he was surprised.

 

***

 

Castiel couldn’t make himself stop staring at Dean’s left hand. It was resting on the diner’s table where the three of them had gone for dinner, despite his protests that he didn’t require nourishment. Castiel was sitting next to Dean and he had moved his own right hand up so it rested next to Dean’s.

He noted the differences in their skin. Jimmy had never done hard labour and had smoother skin in comparison to Dean’s calloused skin. Castiel also noticed that his skin colour was a few shades darker than Dean’s, which surprised him as he associated Dean as a very outdoors person. Both their hands looked strong and full of sinew and Castiel could feel the heat of Dean’s skin warming his own.

Fingers twitching, Castiel _very_ slowly moved his hand closer and closer to Dean’s, his breath caught in his lungs and his heart pounding an unsteady rhythm. A few millimetres away, Dean’s hand abruptly moved out of the way and Castiel froze in fear that Dean had noticed and rejected Castiel’s gesture before he could finally have closure to this urge that was like a living thing in his stomach, trying to claw up his throat.

He looked up quickly and let out a sigh in relief when he realised the waitress had simply come over with their meals and Dean was using both hands to attack his plate of burger and fries. 

Throughout the rest of the next hour, all Castiel could think of was how much he wished for the courage to just take Dean’s hand and end this whole exasperating experience; scolding himself for every missed chance.

“Dude! What’s up with you?” Dean demanded as Castiel’s next attempt at handholding led him to knock Dean’s cup of coffee across the table and spill the hot beverage on his jeans.

Castiel slumped in his seat, staring at Dean’s stained thighs glumly and swirling in guilt.

“Nothing.” He muttered in reply.

Dean and Sam shared a look, before Sam threw a handful of bills on the table and started to leave their booth.

“Well, let’s get back to the motel so I can change.”

 _Handholding should not be so difficult._ “Very well.”

 

***

 

The car ride back to the motel was quiet. Dean neglected to turn the radio on and kept glancing at Castiel in the rear view mirror, unsure of what to say, but he kept his head turned stubbornly to stare out the window pensively.

Castiel couldn’t even bring himself to watch Wall-E again when they got back to their temporary home, bitterly disappointed in his failure. Sam shot him glances as he bustled around the room, tidying it and beginning his night-time ritual. Dean was showering and singing a rock song Castiel didn’t care to know the name of, but found soothing because it was so _Dean_.

Sam cleared his throat, “What are you planning on doing tonight, Cas?” He asked stiltedly.

Castiel regarded Sam for a moment, saddened that he didn’t have a closer relationship with the taller brother, “I’ll stay here. There’s nowhere else I need to be.”

Sam nodded, even as his face fell in his usual vulnerable compassion that Castiel often saw directed towards him. Sam twitched a look over his shoulder to the bathroom door, before sighing and slouching onto his bed to organise his pile of criminally-obtained official documents.

Castiel turned back to the blank television screen and had to physically stop himself from startling when the bathroom door suddenly opened, releasing a torrent of steam and a damp and warm-looking Dean.

“Your turn, Sammy,” Dean threw his dirty clothes back into his bag.

 _It shouldn’t be this hard_. Castiel stood from the couch and closed the distance between him and Dean before he could properly think out his plan of action. He firmly grasped Dean’s shoulder, noting he was as warm as he looked, and turned him around. Dean looked startled and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Castiel, but was generally used to his non-verbal directions.

“Cas, what-”

Castiel released his shoulder and moved to lace his fingers with Dean’s, pulling their joined hands into the space between their bodies.

He was right. This was important; significant.

He was breathless. Euphoric. For the first time in forever, he could feel a tangible pull to another being, one he foolishly thought he had had with God. But this – this was raw and magnetic. It was like falling through needles, but it didn’t hurt. It made him feel numb and burning all at the same time. It was like touching Dean’s soul again, but magnified threefold. It was _human_.

Castiel dragged his eyes away from their hands to see Dean looking at him like he’d been punched in the stomach. Eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Dean’s eyes flickered down to where they were joined and Castiel felt like he needed to explain.

“Wall-E wanted to hold Eve’s hand more than anything else and when they finally did, it was as if the whole universe stopped spinning for one moment, just for them. I guess animated robots are not the only ones who can experience such a moment.”

Dean said nothing, still staring at their hands. Castiel looked down as well and pushed aside the rising acidic fear that Dean would find this an unforgiveable invasion of his personal space.

Instead, he asked Dean solemnly, “Did the universe stop spinning for you too, Dean?”

The silence was oppressive as if all the air had been vacuumed from their room, Sam frozen in a half crouch from where he had been moving to stand up. Dean looked back up to Castiel’s wide, honest blue eyes.

His voice wrecked and quiet, Dean managed to whisper back, “Yeah. Yeah, it did Cas.”

 

 End,

 

 

 


End file.
